Sunday, August 23, 2020

TIGHT QUARTERS

You must be the change you wish to see in the world. ~ Mahatma Gandhi 

You might have missed this, but on February 3, when a virus wasn’t an all too central part of our attention, the US Mint in Philadelphia issued its newest US quarter-dollar coin. This coin, shown below, displays our very first President, George Washington, who has continuously appeared on our quarters since 1932 – no term limits for quarters apparently. Our newest quarter celebrates American Samoa on the relief (back side), which features a mother fruit bat and her pup hanging upside down. Aren’t you numismatists now excited? 

   The newest coin is part of the US Mint's America the Beautiful Quarters Program. According to the Mint, “the image evokes the remarkable care and energy that fruit bat mothers put into their offspring. The design is intended to promote awareness to the species’ threatened status due to habitat loss and commercial hunting. The National Park of American Samoa is the only park in the United States that is home to the Samoan fruit bat."

So start swimming across the Pacific to Samoa – it’s only 4,805 miles from here – and lend assistance to these threatened fruit bats. The Philadelphia Mint is no penny ante or mere nickel and dime operation; it usually produces 13.5 billion coins every year that represent 1.2% of the nation’s money supply. This spring, there were close to $48 billion worth of coins circulating. But the Mint’s production of coin has decreased due to measures put in place to protect its employees from the virus.

There are not enough quarters, or as I’ll refer to them here, Georges. Just like TP and paper towels, the coronavirus is now blamed for a shortage of quarters. This shortage isn’t the result of more young people playing coin games like deadbox or tinks, like I used to in grade school.

Only 70-90nm in size, roughly one-hundredth as large as a human red blood cell, the coronavirus has been blamed for aggravating virtually every shortage, inequity and malady.[1] The covid-19 pandemic is everywhere. The word pandemic, first used in the mid-1600s when the Great Plagues of Europe were killing 20% to 50% of the population, comes from the Greek pan demos (all people). In a viral variant of Parkinson’s Law that cannot be masked; the coronavirus has inevitably expanded so as to fill the time available for everyone’s fears and opinions. And, of course, it’s far from over.

The only comparable, politically mesmerizing event I remember is the 1973-74 Oil Embargo when suddenly, and belatedly, we realized that oil was a vital ingredient for a vast spread of economic activity and whose supply was no longer guaranteed. This embargo incented some economists to develop a BTU theory of value which measured a good’s worth based on how many BTUs (of then very scarce oil) were required to produce it. Thankfully, a covid theory of value hasn’t evolved, yet. Has it?

Nevertheless, as everyone knows from personal experience, the coronavirus has extensively changed our behavior. These behavioral changes include how much we’ve been spending and how we’ve been paying for purchased items. Paying for stuff requires some sort of money, which for economists like me leads to talking about “types” of money and the money supply. The US money supply is managed by the Federal Reserve Bank (the Fed), our nation’s central bank.

Simply put, the larger our money supply the more spending happens. The more spending that occurs the higher our GDP. The Fed has demonstratively supported keeping the US economy relatively afloat during the covid crisis. Over the past year, the Fed has increased the money supply by nearly $1.5 trillion dollars, an amazing 38.5% growth rate. That is a whole bunch of dollars, and Georges. It’s also a prime example of big-time expansionary monetary (money supply) policy. In July, retail sales slightly increased (1.2%) for the third straight month, after significantly dropping earlier in the year.

There are several types of money, including cash (like Georges and dollars), credit and debit cards, checks, and zeros and ones (digital money). With the exception of cash, most monetary transactions end up as zeros and ones in your (or someone else’s) account.

There’s more money circulating, courtesy of the Fed, but Georges and other change are in tight supply. Because of the apparent shortage, the Fed has rationed coin supplies to banks across the country. That’s not necessarily a large macro issue because coins aren’t used in many high-value non-digital purchases. Federal Reserve research indicates coins and cash are used only in about 12% of purchases costing $100 or more. Such transactions thus don’t provide much change, which is not the same as what Mr. Gandhi was referring to at the beginning of this blog post.

But coins and other cash are used for 49% of payments below $10. That’s why laundromat operators are wondering where George is. Laundromats are quarter kings because their washers and dryers require them to operate, as you probably remember.

There are about 29,500 coin-laundries in the US, generating nearly $5 billion in annual gross revenue. It costs the typical laundromat customer about 8 quarters to wash her/his clothes and about the same to dry them. Some laundromats charge less (6 quarters), some more (16 quarters).

Most laundromats provide on-site change machines for their customers so they can use the washers and dryers. The stores’ owners/operators thus need a steady, substantial supply of Georges. That’s becoming more challenging. Charles, a laundromat owner, drives to six banks in his city every morning in search of Georges. The banks now each limit him to no more than $120 worth (480 quarters). Most recently, he’s been running low on Georges, which is bad for his business: no quarters, no washing or drying.

He and other small business-people believe the coronavirus has somehow blocked coins from circulating in the economy. Many non-essential businesses remain closed, perhaps with their unemptied register tills on the premises. People are making fewer shopping trips, and depending on the store type, buying less per visit. That is happening, but it’s not just the supply of Georges and other cash that may have shrunk because of the virus, it’s also their velocity.

Money velocity is an economic term that measures the rate (speed) at which money is exchanged for goods or services in the economy. It’s the rapidity at which people and firms spend their money. Unlike driving on the Interstate, money velocity has no regulated speed limit, it depends on the size of nation’s macroeconomic output (GDP), relative to the size of the money supply.

US money velocity has lessened over time. From the beginning of 2020 through June 30, money velocity dropped 23%, a big reduction. Velocity is at its lowest in 60 years. Lower money velocity means each dollar (and quarter) is not being used as often to buy things. This lower demand for purchasing items produces lower GDP. The US real (inflation-adjusted) GDP dropped 9.5% from the first to the second quarter of 2020.

Despite the Fed’s successful efforts to increase the overall money supply, money velocity has significantly dropped as has the supply of coins. Lower velocity mitigates some of the effects of the money supply's increase. Georges and other cash are being used less to purchase of goods and services.

Where’s George when we need him?

 



[1] The media has taken to multiplying the pandemics we’re facing, so hardly anything is left out of its realm: witness media sightings of the fashion pandemic, the housing pandemic, the wildfire pandemic, the Great Barrier Reef pandemic, the schools' laptop pandemic… 



Friday, August 7, 2020

COBOL AND COVID

My pitching philosophy is simple: keep the ball away from the bat. ~ Satchel Paige 

Infrastructure. You’ve heard this word so many times it no longer perks up your or anyone’s attention. When I think of infrastructure, I imagine roadways, airports and bridges. Merriam-Webster’s rather non-descript definition of infrastructure is: “the system of public works of a country, state or region.”

Infrastructure isn’t exciting or stimulating. That’s basically why there are far more politicians who love to promise they’re going to amp up infrastructure spending than actually put dollars to work improving it. Infrastructure’s considerable value stems from enabling many appreciated economic and social activities to happen. Like Little Red Riding Hood driving her EV on her town’s freshly-paved streets to visit gramma’s house (and avoid the big bad wolf), or using her town’s public water system to clean her fine, red hoodie in her water-efficient washer.

Last fall, the Congressional Budget Office estimated that combined federal, state and local spending in 2017 on infrastructure was $441 billion, roughly 2.3% of GDP. This estimate represents the lowest level in more than 60 years. Infrastructure spending peaked at about 3% in the late 1950s, when the Interstate highway system was being constructed.

The Interstate System is perhaps the best-known Federal infrastructure program. Its 47,000 miles cost about $129 billion, making it the nation’s largest-ever public works program. Every state has an interstate highway. The first segment of an Interstate highway was begun in 1956 in the Show-Me state of Missouri. The state with the most Interstate miles is Texas (3,501.2mi.); the one with least is Delaware (40.6mi.).[1]  

Roadways are an example of traditional infrastructure that’s easily seen and used by the public. The Coronavirus pandemic has exposed a series of failings in our public infrastructure that is more hidden but nonetheless has created calamities for lots of us. I’ll talk here about two types of fading public works.

First, Covid testing. The CDC’s initial requirement of only using state and local government testing laboratories to diagnose Covid-19 in individuals produced tragic consequences. Despite #45’s completely spurious claims, neither the CDC or these public labs have accomplished their clearly-understood objective of providing sufficient, reliable and timely testing.

Six months into the coronavirus’ incessant attack, the US has yet to adequately deliver enough dependable testing in a timely fashion. In August the US ranks 12th of the 91 nations listed in terms of total per capita coronavirus testing – 173.8 tests/1000 people. Luxembourg is first with a testing rate that’s four (4)-times higher than the US. The media regularly reports people having to wait so long for their results that the findings are medically meaningless. Like all too many others, one San Francisco person finally received his test results 16 days after taking it.

Another veiled, unseen form of vital public infrastructure that’s stumbled in its efforts to surmount substantial viral challenges is the government’s digital infrastructure, its computer systems and personnel. These computer systems enable the panoply of federal/state/local government program payments to be received by intended recipients – like Social Security, SNAP/food stamps, Medicaid/Medicare, tax refunds and, of recent note, unemployment insurance benefits (UI). The pandemic has strained federal, state and local governments’ assistance programs beyond anything imaginable over the last 80 years.

Our public digital infrastructure has floundered because many public agencies haven’t prioritized or been allowed to update their systems for decades. They’re typically legacy mainframe systems, with a very capital “L”.

As of July 25, over 54.1 million American workers, representing more than one in three workers in our labor force, have filed for UI. That’s more than 37 times higher than normally expected, pre-virus. The national unemployment rate peaked in April at 14.7%, the highest since the Great Depression. Our real (inflation-adjusted) GDP fell 9.5% during the last quarter. Over 100,000 small businesses have likely closed for good. Well-known retail businesses have also declared bankruptcy like Lord & Taylor, Sur La Table, Brooks Brothers, Hertz, JCPenney and Chuck E. Cheese.

In response to this medical, economic, social and wholly-human catastrophe the Congress passed its first Covid pandemic support legislation on March 27, the $2.2 trillion CARES Act. Among countries, the US is not known for its generosity to the unemployed. However, the CARES Act provided significant fiscal support for workers, firms and many others harmed by the coronavirus, including a $600 per week supplement to the unemployed. This multi-faceted support totaled 13.2% of the nation’s GDP, placing the US program third largest in the OECD, a group of advanced nations, behind Japan and Canada. In this age of “do-nothing” government, the CARES Act embodies an impressive, timely accomplishment.

But nothing lasts forever including this Act, by design. Alas, the Dems and Repubs have wasted time pointing fingers of blame rather than agreeing what the scope and form of a successor Covid support program should be.

The House Dems easily passed their $3 trillion follow-on package, called the HEROS Act, on May 15. Meanwhile the Senate Repubs are tardily drafting their follow-on package, entitled the HEALS Act, that could provide $1 trillion of benefits. [Don’t you just love how every piece of legislation needs an acronymically-suitable title.] The winner of the HEROS v. HEALS political prizefight has yet to be determined.

No matter how the new legislation finally gets squeezed through the Congress’ political meatgrinder, it will likely be very challenging to implement by state agencies that administer unemployment benefits. Why? Because the vast majority of state unemployment insurance agencies use ancient computer systems.

The age of state benefits agencies’ computer systems ranged between 22 and 42 years old, according to a survey that was performed over 10 years ago. These mostly mainframe hardware systems are digital dinosaurs that use obsolete programming languages like COBOL. The first COBOL program ran in August 1960, that’s 60 years ago folks, on an RCA 501 mainframe computer.[2] Because of their nearly-geologic age, state unemployment insurance agencies’ computers are costly to run, fragile, inflexible and error-prone. Their operation requires continued attention by knowledgeable personnel. It’s no surprise that very few computer jockeys know (or want to know) anything about such archaic systems – most have retired long ago. Hiring knowledgeable staff for such computer systems is a nightmare. Doc Brown’s DeLorean might be a useful staffing tool.

During the 2007-09 recession, when these agencies were last obligated to produce rapidly rising numbers of benefits payments, their legacy computer systems regularly failed. No real system changes were needed, only larger than usual volumes. Many shut down for days after the systems attempted to handle the elevated claim levels.

This Spring, the CARES Act implementation required substantial amounts of angst-inducing time and effort by state UI systems’ operators to redesign their systems to add the uniform $600/week federally-funded supplementary payment to qualified recipients. The federal Treasury Department had similar, time-consuming technical difficulties in providing millions of citizens with their $1,200 payment checks. Many of these challenges centered on the agencies’ obdurate computer systems.

Notwithstanding their possible merit, if the provisions of the Senate’s proposed HEALS Act go into effect, such challenges would multiply. States would need to provide supplementary UI money that would equal 70% of an employee’s lost weekly wages (but not exceed $500/week), when added to existing state benefits. This represents a major change from the CARES Act $600/week supplementary payment.

As such, this HEALS Act stipulation would give many states’ UI systems yet another coronary. To make this seemingly straightforward 70% calculation would require rapid introduction of new revisions to legacy software together with likely linkages to additional databases. What could go wrong when changing lumbering, inflexible, archaic hardware/software systems? How long would it take? Don’t ask and don’t hold your breath.

Perhaps these recognized obstacles are the reason the Senate’s HEALS Act surprisingly provides $2 billion to help states “upgrade” their ancient UI systems. Surprising because the vast majority of Repubs are loath to provide any funding that assists state and local governments.

I would be amazed if the final House-Senate compromise legislation includes any payments that depend on such semi-sophisticated computations. The regrettable state of public digital infrastructure will limit Congressional negotiators to arguing about levels of dollars per week, not percentages of lost wages. It’s another case of public law and action being effectively constrained by woebegone infrastructure.

In this confrontation between COBOL and Covid, keeping it simple – following Occam’s razor – is the only expedient maxim. 

August 11, 2020 postscript. Another COBOL & Covid interaction. The CA state health director abruptly resigned on August 10 amid CA’s rising case/death rate and a big snafu with Covid-related health data. Why the problems? From the story: The governor on Monday vowed to quickly overhaul what he described as the state’s outdated information technology systems, which he blamed for not just the testing data snafu, but also for a staggering backlog of unemployment claims .

 



[1] Until the District of Columbia convinces Congress it should become a state, it’s just a district with 12.3mi. of Interstate. You shouldn’t hold your breath for DC’s latest statehood effort to be successful.

[2] At that time, my father served as the senior RCA executive in charge of its computer systems business.